He shook his head. — “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy.
But she is too much like her brother, — very, very proud. — As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me;
and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now.
She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand highly accomplished.
Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education.”
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying,
“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley!
How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man?
How can they suit each other? — Do you know Mr. Bingley?”
“Not at all.”